Moon’s fixtures are another chamber,
Breeding stasis in sand, gold artefacts
Onto a throne obsidian eye embalmed –
Mortality a weapon and a steer.
Likely one is shattered in glory, though then
As now, no one is amazed by these tremulous
Blunders, sacred as cows though they may be –Slaughter is standard and god has yet to exist.
Time’s future is immemorially stored
As beast’s hearts are burned, not eaten –Equivalence is on the shores of a river and of a Sea.
No monsters here at intimate, declared incest.
Mired in shit and dressed in burning notes of
A heaven interred, who knows what our privacy
Today metes out to one at stool, forever.
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